


Double Jinx--The “I Don’t Like Guns” Job

by crayonbreakygal



Category: Leverage
Genre: Drama, Gen, Guns, Movie Reference, Possible Character Death, but probably not, they all hate guns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 11:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12725958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crayonbreakygal/pseuds/crayonbreakygal
Summary: No one likes guns, especially Eliot. Takes place after season five.





	Double Jinx--The “I Don’t Like Guns” Job

**Author's Note:**

> No idea where this came from. It started serious then turned a corner. Hope you enjoy!

Double Jinx--The “I Don’t Like Guns” Job

Takes place after season five.

Hardison hated weapons in any manner.  Sure, he played video games that often had weapons of mass destruction as the centerpiece.  But that was not real in any shape or form.  Plus, using a keyboard or controller to shoot someone wasn’t exactly like holding a gun that had recoil.

He could see why Eliot hated the things. The man had been shot way too many times according to the scars he had on many places of his body.  The fact that Eliot disarmed people faster than most people could shriek never got old.  It was Hardison’s first impression that night long ago when Eliot had used him as bait at Pierson Aviation.  Mere seconds after Hardison dropping his bag full of tricks, Eliot had four guys down on the ground, disarmed and dismissed.  They didn’t cause any trouble after Eliot had his way.

Hardison shook in his boots when he held the gun up to Eliot in that meeting in the warehouse.  Eliot still reminded him of it later to just tweak him occasionally.

“Safety’s on,” Eliot would tell him at random times.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Bite me.”

“Ew,” Parker said, making a sour face.

“Sometimes expressions are totally lost on you, Parker.”

“It’s just biting people.”

“Focus,” Nate would chime in.

“It’s like none of you ever watched Buffy,” Sophie would bring up.

“Deprived,” Hardison would shoot back.

And so on and so on. Until Nate would tell them to be quiet and concentrate. Those were the days.

Sure, he’d been shot at, more times than one ever could to be shot at. What he wouldn’t do to have one of those shields that Captain America had. Exactly what Hardison needed right at that moment.

They were surrounded, guns pointed to do the most damage. Eliot was down for the count, on the ground and out like a light. Parker had her back to his, standing directly over Eliot as if that would protect him if they started shooting. Nate had Sophie plastered up against his back, hoping to protect her even though he could barely stand.

Didn’t Hardison say they were royally fucked?

 

Parker hated, hated guns because it was so hard to outrun them.  She’d encountered them a few times in her heists.  The key though was to avoid being heard. No guns if they don’t know you’re stealing from them.  That worked, mostly.  One time she’d surprised someone by coming out an air vent too soon. The shot went wide, hitting the wall instead of her head.  After that, she learned stealth mode, which meant no sounds, no guards, no guns. 

Working with others though couldn’t guarantee any of these.  That’s where Eliot came in.  He’d keep them safe from the guns.  Archie never kept her safe from the guns because he’d taught her to avoid them. Eliot kept her safe from the guns because he took care of the bad guys before the guns became an issue.

That first confrontation in the warehouse made her realize that if she did work with a team, then she could never guarantee that guns would not be used.  Hell, she’d brought one with her, safety off.  Hardison really did need to learn when the safety was on.

She wasn’t going to use it, which was why when Nate took it away from her, she didn’t even flinch. One could never be too careful. Guns were bad.

People still shot at her. Those orphans still slept right next to that cache of them in that gross warehouse.  People still smuggled them. Nate still got hurt by them. When would he learn how to duck? Somehow avoiding them would be much better.

Eliot still got shot, Nate still got shot, Eliot still had to use them to protect the team. They’d never go away.

Parker knew standing over Eliot wouldn’t protect him from being shot, nor would standing back to back with Hardison protect him. There were no air vents to hide in. They couldn’t be quiet and slink away to fight another day.  She could hear the rattle of Nate’s breathing to her side, which probably meant a rib or two had been broken in the fight.

Sophie grabbed her hand and squeezed for a moment, then decided at the last second to not let go. Hardison took the other. Nate had taken to crowding Sophie to her side. Eliot wasn’t moving from beneath their legs.

Man, were they totally fucked.

 

Sophie knew how to shoot a weapon. She’d been taught and was quite accurate when pressed.  Not that she carried one around.  To her, that would admit defeat.  Guns were usually not a part of grifting.  Convincing the mark to give over his or her fortune or paintings or most prized possessions should never involve violence.  If it did, then they’d more than likely come after you instead of just sending off a claim to some insurance investigator. 

Nate sometimes carried the blasted things back in the day. He dealt with more unsavory characters than she did. Just because her standards were different didn’t mean that every criminal felt the same way.

Annie Kroy had seen dead men, never causing the deaths outright.  A few of her other aliases had caused mischief on occasion, but she usually bugged out before anything got too violent.  There were a few instances where she feared for her life, but mostly it was fear of going to jail.  The one incident with Nate in Paris had made her more aware than ever that guns were not to be trifled with ever.  She was surprised that she’d even hit her mark, i.e., Nate’s shoulder.  Sophie had nightmares for months thinking about what she’d done.

She’d never discussed with Eliot why he hated guns, but she could guess why.  His reputation always included stories of guns, people hurt or worse.  She often wondered if they were true, but never asked, particularly once he told Parker not to ever ask. The fact that something happened with Moreau’s bodyguards meant that Eliot most definitely knew how to use them very effectively.

Sophie often wondered though if guns would be her undoing.  Nate had been shot not once, but twice, no, three times since she knew him.  She wouldn’t count the time she did it. The man did not know how to duck and run.  At least Eliot had only been shot on one occasion. Two bullet wounds. 

She could feel Nate’s strong hand in hers just as she felt Parker’s strong hand in her other.  Eliot lay crumpled in between Parker’s feet, not moving.  Nate’s breathing did not sound right, which most likely meant he’d had some damage done to his ribs.  Why was he trying to protect her?  Didn’t he realize that nothing would stop all those bullets that all those guns had in them?

“I’m sorry. I am so sorry,” she heard him whisper to her.

Nate always had a plan and more contingencies to get them out of tight spots.  By the sound of his voice though, it was almost like he thought they’d finally lost. The men surrounding her little family raised their weapons to fire.

She saw Eliot twitch as she closed her eyes.

 

Nate had lived with guns his whole life. Jimmy had concealed a weapon on him for protection, or if he wanted to scare someone into paying him his loan back.  He just didn’t understand why Jimmy had never been shot.  He wasn’t so lucky.

Jimmy had shown him how to operate one, but not when his mother was around.  She hated the things, often putting Jimmy’s gun onto the top of the refrigerator to get it out of Nate’s reach.  Nate learned to respect the weapon, but that didn’t mean he wasn't curious. 

One day, while Jimmy was arguing with his mother once more, Nate found Jimmy’s pistol, turning it over and over in his hands.  He could defend his mother if need be, just in case his dad got too angry.  Or he could help his dad collect his money. In the end, when his mother walked into the kitchen and saw Nate with the gun, she ordered Jimmy to store it elsewhere.  That earned Nate a slap once his mother was out of earshot.

“Don’t you ever touch that again,” Jimmy told him angrily.

“I won’t. I promise.”

And Nate kept that promise until signing on to be an insurance investigator. At first, he was shocked that he was issued a weapon.  Taking good care of it, he learned exactly what he needed to do with it to make sure that others wouldn’t be hurt by his ineptitude.  As in all things that Nate put his mind to, he was a crack shot. Luckily there were very few times he had to actually use the weapon.  If Sophie hadn’t shot him, he doubted he ever would have used it. And that was where his luck ran out.

The joke of the team was that Nate did not know how to duck and run.  It wasn’t like he meant to get shot.  The bad guys had other ideas. 

None of his team, save for Eliot, were violent.  It was either hack, not tell the truth, or be stealthy to steal whatever they wanted.  That’s what made it difficult to catch any of them.  Nate never went anywhere near Eliot during his IYS days. He was too dangerous for an insurance investigator.

Over the years with Leverage Incorporated, they’d been shot at, injured, but in the end they’d saved the day for their clients.  Now Nate was certain that was coming to an end.

Breathing heavily, Nate looked down to see Eliot’s still body lying between Parker’s feet. Hardison was back to back with her, while Sophie was between him and Parker and Hardison.  There was no way they were getting out of this one. The bad guys knew who they were and why they were there.

Nate often wondered how they’d go down.  His best case scenario had already played out in Portland as Interpol looked on, not knowing the black book was the target.  That one was so much fun to plan. 

His ribs hurt from being punched, protecting Sophie as they attempted to escape. Eliot had gotten in some good punches also, but in the end, there were too many of them and Eliot was only one guy.

Grabbing onto Sophie’s free hand, he squeezed. Parker had taken the other one while Hardison had hers in one of his large ones.

“I’m sorry. I am so sorry.”

They were here. They were together at the end. They were family.

Eliot twitched beneath Parker’s legs. He had hoped that their hitter could perform a miracle, but it wasn’t happening. When Nate glanced down though, he saw Eliot’s fingers move just slightly. He was awake, but didn’t want the bad guys to know that. Just then, as Nate watched Eliot’s finger move down, he saw a small canister roll by his feet. A bang rocked the area. Dust flew everywhere. Smoke arose, shielding them from sight.

In what seemed like two seconds, Eliot was up and out of their protective circle. Not two minutes later, all ten, yes ten of the bad guys lay on the ground before them as the smoke started to clear.

“Still don’t like guns,” Eliot stated as he came over to the four, ejecting a cartridge from a handgun.

“Are they…,” Nate started to ask.

He’d heard weapons being discharged, but had concentrated on making sure the rest of the team stayed alive that he didn’t know what happened in the chaos.

“Don’t ask. Better not to know.”

There wasn’t much blood, so Nate figured that most of the bad guys were still alive, but if the team didn’t move fast, then they still wouldn’t stand a chance against that many bodies.

“Move,” Eliot commanded.

 

“You think they’re broken?” Nate asked as Eliot checked him out.

“You can breathe?”

“Barely.”

“You’d know if they’d punctured a lung. Because you’d probably be dead by now.”

“Kinda felt like that was plan M,” Hardison quipped.

“Plan double ZZ. Everyone dies in a blaze of glory,” Parker added.

“Young Guns?  Parker, you’re much too young to get that reference.”  Sophie leaned up against Nate, careful to avoid his injuries.

“Never heard of it.”

Hardison started to mimic Bon Jovi as they climbed into the van. “I’m going down, in the blaze of glory.”

“Dammit, Hardison.”

“Surprised you’re not singing along.”

“In a lot of pain here.”

“Hey, you were unconscious.  Hospital?”

“Do not say that word Parker.”

“Just making a suggestion.”

Nate thought they were done this time.  After retiring, unretiring, then telling them he and Sophie were retiring again, he thought this one last job was it.  It just might be, he thought.

“We are burned every which way to Sunday and then back again. Whoever those guys were, they know every single little thing about us. Brew Pub, your acting gig Soph, Nate’s freelance work.”

“Freelance work?” Eliot questioned as Parker climbed into the driver’s seat.

“Ah, well, just consulting. Nothing big or dangerous. Unlike this one,” he finished.

“So what do we do?” Sophie asked as she pulled off her ruined shoes.

“Lay low,” Parker said as she pulled onto the deserted highway.

“Disappear,” Hardison suggested.

“Split up,” Eliot told the group.

“Why? Why do we have to do that this time? Hey, I have an island. We could go there,” Sophie suggested.

“Ok,” Parker agreed.

“Means I gotta arrange all sorts of things, but it might work.”

“We can lay low, sun ourselves, keep off the radar of the bad guys.”

“Better be food, Soph,” Parker wanted the grifter to know.

 

It took two weeks to arrange to get to Sophie’s island.  Peace and quiet, Nate thought.  Only when they got there, there was nothing left.

“Hurricane?” Hardison joked.

“It was here. I swear. I had a whole staff on call. They lied.  To me.”

“Yeah, well, luckily I checked everything out.  Tent’s in the boat.”

“Tent?” Sophie growled back.

“Tent. Provisions. Everything we need.”

“There’s a beach. We could be like Tom Hanks,” Hardison said as he started back to the boat.

“It’s like Gilligan’s Island,” Parker yelled as she splashed in the water.

“I am not Gilligan,” Hardison yelled back at her as he pulled stuff out of the boat.

“Ok, Professor, what next?” Sophie queried Nate.

“Well, Ginger, we can stay here for a week. Hardison can grump about no internet access. Parker can drive us batty from no towers to climb. Eliot, well Eliot is in his element. He might kill the others.”

“Dubai?”

“Hmm, remember what happened the last time you were there.”

“Paris.”

“We’re supposed to be lying low.”

“London?”

“Sterling.”

“Oh, yuck.  Most definitely not going back to Syria.”

“Too dangerous.”

Nate took Sophie’s arm and led her up the beach until they were under a torn canopy, left over from the hurricane.

“Cuba? Heard that could be nice.”

“No. Not a good idea,” Sophie warned Nate.

“What did you do?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“OK, where could we go?”

“I wanna go to Disneyworld,” Parker suggested as she ran by, sand flying from her feet.

“Miami,” Sophie purred. “Sun, sand, nightlife.”

“Hurricanes, hence the not having a place to stay. Mosquitos, too much sun,” Hardison grumped.

“Internet,” Eliot said as he carried the stuff up the beach. “Help. I could use some help.”

“Ribs,” Nate complained.

“Darling, we could cut your hair and dye it blonde. Shave that awful beard. Eliot has already cut his hair, so that’s done.  Parker could go brown or red. I’m thinking red for me.”

“And I’ll just grow some hair, Soph,” Hardison shot back as he dragged a cooler up to them.

“Soph, no blonde. And I like the beard. I thought you liked the beard.”

It went on like that until Eliot had dinner going on a roaring fire on the beach.  They all relaxed once that was done, stomachs full of good food and better alcohol.

They survived another crisis, another battle. Another storm could be brewing around the corner for them, ready to take them all down, or one of them.  Nate didn’t know what was in store for them, how they’d manage to live and start over once again.

“Hey, we could go back to Boston. I still own the building,” Hardison suggested to the group.

Nate’s mind started to move, started to formulate a plan to possibly get them back to their roots.

“What about Interpol, the NSA, the CIA?” Nate asked the hacker.

“Oh, they’re still buried in the data, looking in Portland, or possibly Los Angeles.  I’ll have to do some digging. Once I get back in civilization,” Hardison said as he drew out that last word like a swear word.

No matter where they finally ended up, Nate knew his family would always be together.

“We could retire?” Nate suggested as they all sat around the fire.

Marshmallows were thrown at his head at that suggestion. Maybe not.

 

Eliot wondered where they’d gone wrong on that last job.  It seemed to be fairly straight forward. The mark wasn’t violent. He’d misjudged and almost paid the ultimate price in addition to his team.  Maybe Nate’s suggestion of retirement wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Eliot had all he wanted out of life. He had good friends, family that he cared about.  He had plenty of money to last a lifetime. 

“Ok, now who’s sharing a sleeping bag because there’s only four?”

“Don’t worry, Hardison.  Underneath the stars.”

“Just make sure you don’t sleep in the buff. Something might crawl out of the ocean and take a bite.”

“Ew,” Parker told the others.

“Just as long as we do something without guns,” Nate told Eliot.

“Oh great. You just jinxed us,” Hardison pointed out.

Sophie agreed while Parker shook her head at Nate.

“Nate, I don’t like guns,” Eliot said as he lay back in the warm sand.

“Double jinx,” Parker sighed.

“When is that a double jinx?” Sophie asked the thief.


End file.
